One Heart, One Nemesis
by Wife of Jason Voorhees
Summary: The survivors from the F13 movies team up to battle their one common enemy: Jason Voorhees. Led by Tommy Jarvis, they each use their unique abilities to fight the monster killing their loved ones in the hope of stopping him for good.
1. Tommy's Dream

**Welcome, everyone, to one of my newest stories! As I said in the summary, this one stars the survivors from the F13 movies teaming up to battle Jason. Part of it also deals with an alternate universe where Tommy and Tina face a world where Jason is in control. **

**I really hope you like this story. Reviews are very appreciated. If you want me to return the favor, I will. **

Jason Voorhees is a name that sparks terror into new humans every day. He is a legend raised right up there with Bigfoot and the Loch Ness monster. However, unlike those creature stories, this monster is far too real. Throughout the years, he has put a bloody end to many teenage lives who have wandered onto his domain. Who they are has never made a difference to him: only that they are worthless and must be punished.

Few have seen Jason and lived to tell the tale. And even those who have could not keep Jason down for long. He has only been put to sleep: never truly dead. Those survivors comprise only 1% of the people Jason has encountered, but they definitely have made up for their small ratio.

Ginny Field, Chris Higgins, and Trish Jarvis all battled the killer during his human state. Tina Shepard and Rennie Wickham had the horrific honor of facing Jason when he become an indestructible zombie. And Tommy Jarvis, Jason's number one nemesis, was unique in that he experienced Jason's wrath more than once.

With their own special abilities, whether it be of the mind or soul, they had done the extremely unlikely of stopping Jason in his tracks. Though he had risen again to torture a new batch of humans, their survival was still buried in Jason's psyche. For many years, it churned and boiled. One day soon, though, their defiling of him would not go unpunished. Whether it was Ginny or Rennie, the survivors were about to face their one common nemesis for a final standoff.

* * *

Tommy Jarvis crouched down low in the bushes: his mind alert, his body taut. His stone-hard gaze scanned every inch of the trees ahead. He maintained the composure of a skilled hunter thirsty for blood. However, the blood he sought was neither human nor animal.

Ever so stealthy, he dashed to the next hidden location: a group of rocks on the shore of a stream. But the moving water made no sound of a trickle. It remained silent like the focused form of Tommy. The only movement he made was to reposition his fingers on the weapon he held: a 22 gauge, sawed-off shotgun. The gun packed power that could blow a hole in flesh the size of a human head.

And Tommy needed all the power he could. Deep inside, however, he wondered if even this weapon would be strong enough against the force he faced. For he had experience with this evil to know what it was made of.

Like a ready soldier, he poked his head forth from the rocks. And was met with a machete rushing down just inches from his head. Tommy jumped backwards, catapulting himself off the pile, and kicked the blade from his attacker.

He hurled himself around and lifted the shotgun at the one whom he had been hunting: Jason Voorhees. Seven feet tall and bulging with power, Jason picked up the machete and rose to meet his nemesis. Such hatred burned beneath that white hockey mask.

Tommy's face scrunched up into reciprocal feelings. He held his gun securely and fired a hole into Jason's chest. Dark flesh exploded into pieces, including some of the tissue that was part of his heart. But that only infuriated Jason even more.

He began to rush towards Tommy, his blade prepared to shed enemy blood. Tommy somersaulted away from the monster and fired more rounds. They all blew off flesh, but none succeeded to stop Jason.

The two rivals faced each other: hatred so strong it could overwhelm the brightest sky. Jason would be more pleased to destroy Tommy Jarvis than any other human. This was because Tommy had grown up into a strong-bodied adult, reminding the killer of how Jarvis had escaped his wrath: not once, but twice.

Tommy whipped out a grenade from the belt at his waist. Jason knocked it away from him just as fast as he had gotten it out. Voorhees struck a blow to Tommy and stared blankly as he fell to the ground.

Tommy was about to use his roll to leap to his feet. He took out another grenade so he could unleash it at Jason's head. At the same time, Jason started to lash the weapon down at his enemy. Both were ready to deliver the final blows.

"Go to Hell, you bastard," Tommy cried out.

His cry faded away into blinding white light. Tommy's vision darkened, while he felt himself falling farther and farther away. He was swallowed up into blackness, leaving Jason to ponder furiously where his nemesis had gone.

* * *

Tommy sat up in his bed, face sweating so profusely; it was like he had actually lived the dream. Each heavy breath felt like it would be his last. Tommy looked urgently around before discovering that his most hated nemesis wasn't here.

And the location was a bunkroom that was part of an army training camp. Tommy had been fighting in the Army for a few years now as a way to unleash his anger in a more appropriate way. Ever since his fights with Jason, Tommy found it difficult to maintain a peaceful personality. Jason would forever leave a deep scar on Tommy's soul.

But instead of turning to Jason's dark side, which Tommy had to admit he had thought of more than a few times, he used that inner rage to benefit humanity. And the Army was a perfect place to do so.

Now, Tommy was involved in a new training course to better his skills. Along for the ride was a newbie to the Army, Jamie Hawes. But he was not a newbie to Tommy's life. Jamie was his good friend, being the only one to stick around during the worst of times. Besides that, the two shared a link over the death of Allen Hawes by Tommy's own hated Jason Voorhees. Allen was Jamie's older brother and Tommy's companion at the psychiatric hospital.

Jamie was sleeping restfully in the bunk above Tommy's tortured form: unaware that Tommy had dreamt about fighting Jason more than a few times this week. Jarvis pondered why he had started getting these nightmares when he hadn't for so long. The last one had been nearly a month after Tommy had chained Jason in the depths of the lake. Then Tommy hadn't hesitated to take off and leave the town's memories behind him.

He finally relaxed enough to stop sweating, even though the images remained. Was fate giving him these dreams after many years for a reason? Tommy got up and walked to the bathroom to wash his face. He was determined to find out what was going on.

* * *

Many miles from the Army training base was a beautiful, homey building tucked away in a woodsy valley. The exterior was made of creamy brick with a spacious, paved parking lot ending just before the trees began. The building rose up as three floors to overlook the rolling landscape.

This was the Serenity Valley Hospital: a psychiatric facility for teens and young adults. It was nestled quite far from the business of society, so its patients could have the focused care they needed without interruption.

Behind the hospital's walls, its head nurse walked hurriedly down the polished, wooden floor. She always walked with such a quick pace because time was important in the patients' lives. Whatever minute could be used to understand someone's mental status, she took it. She held such compassion for she was quite familiar with the labels of being an outcast: of possessing such a troubled and confused mind that she didn't know where to turn.

She stopped at a particular patient's door. The head nurse cared for all with psychological problems dearly, but this one really drew her in. The two had marked similarities, even though the nurse did not confide in the patient as to the details.

She poked her head into the teenager's room. The girl immediately sat up on her bed and smiled. Her slender hands were clasped together in her lap. Her eyes flashed as golden as the head nurse's hair.

"Hello, Gabriella," the nurse said in a voice that would be deemed as quieter than most.

But that never bothered Gabriella Stevenson.

"Hello, Ms. Shepard," she greeted the woman. "How are you?"


	2. Redirected Hatred

**Welcome back! I'm sorry for any delay. Quite a few things have been happening with me. But just know that I will never give up on my stories. **

**I know I didn't mention them in the last chapter's introduction, but I am planning on including Clay and Whitney from the remake, and a character from Part 9. **

**Happy reading! Either my Bloodstorm or my Vengeance story will be updated next. **

Ms. Shepard glanced around Gabriella's room before looking back at the girl. Placed neatly upon the walls were pictures Gabriella had drawn. Most were of people that she had met: quite a few being of Ms. Shepard. They all packed such depth and emotion that the nurse could look at one and swear she was looking at a mirror image of the person.

Gabriella was assuredly the best artist anyone could have met. She released her inner turmoil in her pictures, but only Ms. Shepard had the eyes to see that. The nurse found it too bad that the turmoil stemmed from Gabriella's true gift: one more extraordinary than her artwork. And the greatest shame of all was that this remarkable talent was why Gabriella was here in the first place.

"I'm doing fine, Gabriella," Ms. Shepard resumed the conversation. "How about you?"

Gabriella smiled while picking at her chestnut colored hair. It hung limply down past the girl's shoulders. Her soulful eyes stared back at Ms. Shepard: capable of reading what lay inside any abyss. And the nurse's mind certainly was one.

"Same, Ms. Shepard," she spoke in a melodic voice. "Though I can't help but know something."

The nurse sat down next to Gabriella.

"We're friends, Gabriella," she told the girl. "You can call me Tina."

Gabriella nodded with a seemingly peaceful face, but a sense of being troubled flickered in her eyes. She stared ahead, so focused, like she was penetrating the very essence of the room. She breathed deeply before speaking.

"You can sense the future, can't you, Tina?" Gabriella asked, sounding as if she already knew the answer.

Tina remained calm, yet an inkling of nervousness couldn't stop itself from nibbling at her insides. She knew this question was coming, but couldn't accept the fact that she could. It had been so long since she had used any of her foretelling of the future. But, as Gabriella turned to glance at her, Tina knew she couldn't hide it much longer. Especially not after what the girl said next.

"Because, if you can, you'll know like me that something very bad is coming," Gabriella said, drawing out the sentence to give it a rather spooky impact.

Denial was Tina's instant reaction. Inside, she shook her head no. Which meant she was saying one thing: Not A_gain_.

* * *

On a main road leading through the Crystal Lake wilderness, two rather unfortunate men find themselves stranded. They were counselors for a special needs camp in the northern most part of New Jersey. While traveling along the doomed Crystal Lake road, which one of them foolishly thought was a shortcut, they ended up blowing a tire and swerving to a stop near a ditch.

One of the counselors, Terry, got out to discover that the tire had been shredded mercilessly by some glass shards. He looked about quite nervously, not at all ignorant about the danger the woods contained. It was not his idea at all to go this way. Terry frowned at his fellow counselor, who was still seated behind the steering wheel.

Randy McCormick leaned out the window, while oblivious to Terry's frustration. Randy would have been called the foolish one. Being the more experienced counselor, he thought that gave him the right to decide everything, including the route they would take. He didn't stop to think that experience meant nothing if you had no clue about the seriousness of passing through these woods.

"So what did we hit, Terry?" Randy called out.

Terry picked up one of the shards and showed it to him.

"Glass," he spoke, his annoyance still not leaving. "From the looks of it, glass from a windshield."

Terry Jordan's father was an expert on everything pertaining to automobiles. It hadn't taken Terry long to soak up all that knowledge.

"So a car must have crashed here," Randy figured aloud.

Upon closer inspection, Terry slightly gasped. Along the edges of the shard was a redness: only visible in the light. Blood was the first thing that came to his mind. Terry stared deeper into the forest, not believing that the blood had come from a crash.

"We have to get out of here, Randy," he said with doom penetrating his voice.

Randy was clearly surprised. He left the car and turned to the trunk.

"Why? We have a spare tire, don't we?"

Terry shook his head. He couldn't stand still much longer. The counselor felt an evil force approaching them. Its presence choked the air, making it hard for him to breathe.

"There's no time for that," he replied, while already backing away down the road. "We should never have come this way. We have to go. Now."

Terry didn't wait for a response. He started to walk hurriedly away from Randy. His intent was not to stop until he was on the other side of the Crystal Lake woods. Faster and faster, Terry left Randy behind, hoping that he would take the hint and follow.

* * *

Jason snapped open his eye, awakening from his hypnotized state. In his mind, he had escaped into another reality where he had encountered his ultimate nemesis: Tommy Jarvis. One minute, he had been surveying his territory, and the next, he had entered a dream-like trance.

It wasn't exactly a dream because Jason had never needed to sleep. But its sensation felt just as real. Unknowingly to him, he had shared a connection with Tommy where both their minds had been present in the battle. A dream of Tommy's intertwined with Jason's trance, ending with Tommy disappearing before Jason could rid himself of this rivalry.

Back to reality now, Jason was furious. Would Tommy escape him every time? For many years, the killer had blocked Tommy out, focusing on new victims, but this experience refueled his hatred for the human.

Jason's anger rose to higher levels when he sensed two new people in the area. Killing instinct sharpened by the dream, he set off to find them. Even before he saw whoever they were, he was planning their blood soaked demise. No compassion or logic was present in this motivation. The humans existed. That was reason enough for Jason to want them dead.

Cutting quickly through the still forest, he arrived at the edge to find one of the two humans. The man was knelt down by a car and appeared to be changing a tire. All Jason detected from this was the position of vulnerability. Precious weapon at his side, the killer broke out of the trees and began to stalk his next victim.

* * *

Randy was so focused on the task at hand that he was unaware of the danger lurking so near the car. While struggling to put on a new tire, he constantly grumbled to himself about Terry leaving him. The man had no idea what had gripped his friend's heart and sent him running like a scared rabbit. But all Randy knew was that he would be the sensible one: to actually fix the problem instead of wandering off while blabbering that the woods were haunted.

At least he _thought_ that he was the smarter of the two. Because, in a matter of seconds, Randy would have wished that he had taken Terry's lead.

As he started to secure the new tire, the shadow of a giant loomed over him. The knelt form of Randy barely had time to respond. He felt a blade slice all the way through his chest, taking his heart along with it. The organ dropped to the ground before the killer wrenched his weapon out of Randy's body. Though blood was everywhere, nothing was more vivid in the counselor's eyes than each individual beat of his heart. It continued to contract even after Randy fell dead next to its pulsing rhythm.

Randy had possessed only a few seconds to realize that he had just been killed by Jason Voorhees. But even if he had known, it wouldn't have mattered. Jason did not care what his victims felt, as long as they died in the end. He left Randy's body to begin his silent stalking of new prey: Terry Jordan.

* * *

Terry may have walked fast and far, though there was no question that Jason would catch up with him. The man almost thought he was in the clear, until the mighty legend stepped out in front of him.

Terry froze in his movements, feeling his whole body being overtaken by the monster's presence. He knew this was Jason. And any recognition of the killer's territory was not enough to allow Terry to escape.

He watched Jason study him so intently. Confusion replaced Terry's fear when Voorhees became even angrier than normal. No matter how far apart they were, Terry could see fury burning underneath that mask. If he had any ability to put himself in Jason's position, he would have known why.

Jason scoured the man's appearance with his gaze. Normally, he did not care what his victims looked like, but this time was quite different. Terry reminded Jason of one particular person. The hair, the eyes, the face, every bit of the human strongly resembled Tommy Jarvis.

Jason's blood boiled beyond belief. Though there was confusion about if this really _was_ Tommy, hatred overwhelmed all other senses. Just in case it was, Jason would make him pay for coming back and defiling him once again.

He moved with such speed that Terry had no time to run. With two swift stabs of his machete, the killer took out both of Terry's legs. Bloody and useless, they gave way, sending Terry face first to the ground. He howled laments of pain, which grew louder when Jason dug into the wounds and started to drag Terry away. Such shock seared his nerves, causing the counselor to pass out.

* * *

The darkness seemed to last forever, and Terry thought he was at death's door. After all, Jason had had plenty of time to slaughter him while Terry was trapped in his unconscious state. However, upon opening his eyes, the counselor found himself very much alive in what looked to be a rather worn down house.

His low vision made him realize he was lying on the floor, a trail of blood leading to his position. Terry glanced up to discover the huge Jason staring at him very ominously.

"What do you want?" Terry asked, sounding more helpless than he had wanted.

Jason's mind was a mysterious void to the man bleeding at his feet. He had brought this Tommy lookalike here so he could kill his top enemy in the most personal way possible. And nothing was more personal than the very heart of his territory, where Jason set up shop, so to speak.

Jason's vision burned red as he continued to focus on Terry. This man looked like and even breathed like Tommy Jarvis. No, no more. Tommy had to die. Even worse, he had to be tortured.

He took his machete and stabbed Terry's legs repeatedly until he had severed them both from his body. The killer resumed cutting every inch of the man as possible, making him scream bloody murder and beg to just die, but Jason did not want him to get off that easy. Not after everything Tommy had put him through.

As a bloody fountain became his body, Terry suffered more than just agony. A great confusion afflicted him as to why he had to die this way. Had he not respected Jason by trying to leave his territory?

Apparently not. He was slashed from groin to shoulder, from his neck straight down to his pelvis, and every other way a person could be cut. All the while, no explanation of this brutality was present in Terry's mind. Only Jason would forever know why he had to be killed in this manner.

Voorhees watched the man slowly die from massive blood loss. His moans made their way up to the heavens and were then silent. The death brought about a lack of understanding on Jason's part. He gave his signature head tilt of confusion, while staring down at the body.

If that had been Tommy Jarvis, why had he died so easily? His nemesis was known for giving quite the fight, and yet this man hadn't tried to stop him at all. It just didn't make sense.

Jason finally realized the fact that, despite their similar appearances, that had not been Tommy Jarvis. Which meant one thing: his real enemy was still out there, still living his life after dishonoring Jason's wrath.

Jason erupted with new fury. He went about to destroy every part of the room: throwing over tables and bookcases, smashing the windows, even knocking out chunks of the wall. All of this rage was aimed at Tommy, who had to die as soon as possible.

No more continuing on like nothing had happened. Time to finish what he had started with the man known as Tommy Jarvis.

* * *

Jamie Hawes ducked left, then right, then shot up his fists to block Tommy's blows: almost a second too late. His comrade was quite the challenge for anyone to fight, having both the stamina and strength to excel in hand to hand combat training. Good friends or not, Jamie always felt nervous when facing Tommy. While fighting, Jarvis transformed into this different person, seeming to unleash this hidden rage that never went away.

Tommy's gaze was solid. He never broke a bead of sweat. Utterly relentless, he struck another jab at Jamie, catching him beneath the chin and sending him stumbling backwards. His friend showed clear surprise, though shaking it off quickly. Jamie knew Tommy didn't go easy on him just because of their friendship. That was no way for Hawes to learn how to become a good fighter.

The training session ended, and all the men in the room congratulated each other. Taking their water bottles, they left in friendly formation for the showers.

Jamie reached out to shake hands with Tommy with the purpose of telling him of their good fight. But Tommy looked like the battle wasn't over. Breathing heavily, he focused on his friend like a wolf stalking a sheep. Jamie was familiar with Jarvis never being one to easily lay his defenses down. Tommy stared at him as if he was someone else, and Jamie had to snap him out of it once again.

"Hey, Tommy, we're done," he spoke loudly. "Good fight, huh, pal?"

It took a few minutes, but Tommy looked around and realized the end of training. He and Jamie were now the only ones in the room. He exhaled quite clearly, like he was releasing his pent up rage with one breath. His face returned to a normal expression.

"Yeah, good fight, Jamie," Tommy replied. "You're certainly getting better. I only hit you once this time."

Jamie gave a weak smile. He never found it hard to bring Tommy back to his usual self. He was told that his friend could be quite dangerous when his defensive state was released. Not that Tommy would ever be dangerous to Jamie.

The two headed out of the training room in the direction of their dorms. The halls were filled with young men hanging out in between classes. Each and every one of them gave some sort of respectful gesture when Tommy walked by. It could easily be said that Tommy Jarvis was well-known in the camp of soldiers.

They passed a group of men that were new to this facility. Paling around with each other, the group lacked the dedicated mindset of taking their training seriously. The leader of the playful attitudes was Clyde Gifford. He had the most revved-up energy after their sharp shooting session and, once again, never ceased to show it in an idiotic way.

"Hey, Paulie," he shouted to his closest friend. "Check this out."

Paulie's eyes sparked excitement coupled with shock when he saw the hockey mask in Clyde's hand. He and the two others had to back away. Goofy or not, they had to show reverence for that mask.

Clyde slipped the hockey mask over his face, ignoring Jamie's insistent shaking of his head. At least for right now, Tommy had his back turned. But if Clyde didn't listen to Jamie's warning, it was about to turn treacherous. Tall and bulky, Clyde possessed a similar shape to the one they all feared.

"Come on, guys," Clyde's muffled voice spoke. "What better way to train than to pretend you're facing the all mighty Jason Voorhees?"

Hearing that name, Tommy spun around on reflex. His hard eyes shot deadly bulls-eyes at the masked figure before him. Nobody could stop him from charging, not even Jamie. In less than a second, Tommy had tackled Clyde to the floor and was pounding bloody scars into him. Paulie and the others screamed for him to stop, though none had the courage to intervene. One even ended up fleeing into the crowd stopping and staring.

It took Tommy's caring friend to end this rage. Jamie grabbed hold of Jarvis and pulled him away with all his might.

"Tommy, stop!" he broke through his buddy's merciless perspective. "It's not him! It's okay! Stop!"

Tommy whipped his head towards Jamie and paused in his fury. He looked back at the beaten Clyde and realized that it was one of his own soldiers. Without speaking, Tommy ran off to leave the other men still fearful after what had happened. Only Jamie dared to run after him.

Paulie peered down at Clyde, all sprawled out on the floor. The mask was cracked from the beating, and blood trickled out from the crack. He moaned for all to hear, even if none were quick to assist him. Paulie shook his head, while finally bending to pull Clyde up.

"I knew that wasn't a good idea," he told Gifford. "You're now on Tommy's bad side. I feel so sorry for you."

Another soldier walked forward and stared in the direction of Tommy's departure. A look of solemn honor crossed his face.

"Tommy Jarvis is as good a soldier as they come. Too bad he's also the most screwed up in the head."


	3. The Trials Begin

**Welcome to Chapter 3! Still on Tommy and Tina for this one, but I plan on introducing some of the other survivors soon. I also don't intend on bringing in Clay or Whitney because, like a fan said, they don't belong in the original timeline.**

Tina sat in her office, quietly staring at the door, as she awaited the newest patient. One of the responsibilities of being a head nurse was to admit newcomers to the hospital with compassion blossoming in the introductions. Tina Shepard had no difficulty doing this. While some nurses feigned caring for these outcasts, Tina had a natural sense of bonding that every one of them could sense.

She could feel the patient's footsteps bouncing down the hall. Quite strange, as every client Tina had met dragged along, while producing an atmosphere of dread and loneliness. She knew this one would be quite different.

"Come in, please," Tina spoke before the accompanying nurse could knock upon the door.

She noted the girl at the nurse's side after they came into the office. Sunshine curls of hair on top of a face reminding Tina of ignorant innocence. The girl packed an aura of a child, smiling upon both nurses and seeming to be unaware of the solemnity of a psychiatric hospital. She spoke her name before anyone else could initiate the admission process.

"Hi, I'm Angelica, but you can call me Angel. That's what my family calls me. An angel that brings about lamentation, or something like that. I don't know what that means, but I'm sure it's good. Who are you?"

Though taken aback by Angelica's naivety, Tina introduced herself. She thought about how this girl could possibly bring about sadness, when she obviously gave a friendly presentation. A mask over a soul of deceit, perhaps? If Tina had not rejected her now hidden abilities, she might have sensed the real story.

"Hello, Angelica. I'm Tina Shepard, the head nurse at Serenity Valley. It's nice to meet you."

She glanced over at the nurse who had brought Angelica in: a nervous, young woman fidgeting about to indicate she didn't want to be here.

"I can take it from here, Rochelle," Tina spoke to soothe her co-worker's nerves. "You may go."

Rochelle had disappeared into the hallway before Tina had finished her statement. The head nurse calmly accepted Rochelle's attitude. A newbie herself to the hospital, Rochelle Almeda was still lost in the stereotypes of psychiatric patients being "monsters." A label Tina Shepard would normally call hateful if she allowed her true self to shine.

She turned back to Angelica to continue welcoming her, if that was the proper term for it. But the new patient had other plans on her mind. Almost to the point of bursting, with dilated eyes and happiness abound, Angelica addressed Tina, while showing honor for her.

"Tina Shepard?" her voice almost echoed throughout the hallway. "Oh my God, I know who you are!"

Though quite strong, there was a shy side to Tina that made her almost freeze in her nurse's uniform. How could this girl possibly know who she was? The answer was immediately revealed.

"You're famous throughout Crystal Lake!" Angelica continued proudly. As one of the few people who fought Jason Voorhees and lived! And my personal favorite by the way!"

_Crystal...Lake? Jason...Voorhees?_

No. This could not be. Tina felt her head pounding. Denial reared its ugly head inside her. She did not want to admit the familiarity of those names, but could not resume like nothing was wrong. Tina rose up fast, her chair sliding back with a resonating screech.

"Please excuse me, Angelica," the head nurse said, fighting to remain calm. "There's something I have to take care of. I'll get another nurse to finish the paperwork and show you to your room."

Angelica frowned, looking to feel betrayed. After all, it seemed that she was being rejected by her ultimate role model. Her sunshine persona dimmed to gray, the gray of confusion.

"What's wrong, Tina?" the patient asked in concern. "Did I do something bad?"

Tina was by the door at this time. The room was spinning. Up and down, side to side, Tina felt like she was on an unstable floor. A strong force demanded to be unleashed. She gripped the door knob and spoke with her back to Angelica.

"No, you didn't. It's me. It's always been me."

She left behind Angelica's quizzical look, which pored into Tina's back all the way down the hall.

* * *

Like Tina, Tommy Jarvis had been awaiting a conversation, though he was not the one in authority at this time. And it was unknown to Jamie, who was pacing in the hall, if this meeting was good or bad news. Ever since the attack on Clyde, fear had passed through every dorm what was to become of Tommy. After all, he was their most prized soldier.

Tommy wasn't really worried himself. He had a different coping mechanism, one of firm indifference. And he had good reason for it. Sitting in the general's office, he saluted the man when he came into the room. General Jarret welcomed Jarvis, who needless to say, he was very proud of. And this talk wasn't going to be easy for the general, even if he had served his country violently without blinking an eye.

Jarret sat across from Tommy, and they both stared at the other strongly. It was like there was always a battle of wills with them. Because of this, neither one was about to back down. The general won with all, except for Jarvis. Tommy wasn't one to be intimidated by authority.

"Let's cut to the chase, Jarvis," General Jarret initiated the power that filled the room. "You know why you're here, and you'll be bored if I tell you again. And I also don't have to say how you're the best fighter I've ever had, not one that I ever want to give up on."

Tommy calmly nodded. There were a few moments of silence, enough to hear his friend murmur anxiously to himself outside the door. When the general progressed, he spoke words that even Tommy didn't plan.

"At the beginning, we took it easy on you because of all you've been through. But then realized we didn't have to since you proved to us that you're better than that. Though I take it losing your girlfriend recently didn't help."

Tommy absorbed that last bit as robustly as he could, even if it hurt inside. His girlfriend, Megan Garris, wasn't exactly lost, for he knew full well where she was. It was the emotional link that was gone. They had hooked up right after Tommy's final confrontation with Jason. Or at least that's what he had told her. Since Tommy Jarvis never felt like he would be totally free of his nemesis, in spirit and mind, he still confronted Jason Voorhees.

For awhile, Megan had understood the stress Tommy had undergone. After all, she had been attacked by Jason herself. But when she finally decided that it was time to move on and pursue her dreams, Tommy was reluctant to join. As she progressed further into recovery, she left him farther and farther behind. When Tommy decided to join the army and actually benefit from his horrific experiences, Megan was already out of his grasp.

"Jarvis," the general interrupted Tommy's momentary flashbacks. "As I was saying, I think some time off would be good for you."

Tommy's mouth slightly dropped in confusion. He obviously had missed some of what General Jarret had spoken. Now that his focus was back, he felt almost betrayed. Time off? He had to remember what time off was for a moment. And knowing the meaning made it worse.

"It's okay, sir," Tommy tried to reassure Jarret. "I understand that my behavior was rash. It won't happen again."

Unfortunately, that wasn't enough to persuade the general.

* * *

Jamie Hawes jumped back when the office door opened. Tommy came striding along, looking none too happy. Every strand of his dark blonde hair bristled in anger. Jamie didn't have to ask how it went.

"Time off until I work things out," Jarvis stated. "That's what Jarret told me. I spend years fighting for others' safety, and this is the thanks I get."

Tommy stood there for what seemed like a long time. Every breath he took was clear and deep. Jamie did feel concern for his friend, but what could he say? Jarret never changed his decisions. And Jamie wasn't about to side with anyone except Tommy, even if he did beat up Clyde. Besides, Jamie was reminded of the man that had killed his brother, Allen, and he would have gone ballistic too if he was strong enough.

Tommy walked ahead to pack his things, pondering the sense that he was about to lose everything once again.


	4. Evil Draws Near

**Greetings all fans of this story. I realize that this one is not as known as one of my other stories, but I will always appreciate who does read this. I hope once more action happens, the popularity will rise. **

**This chapter is more of a transition between action sequences. I plan on it becoming more exciting in the next chapter.**

Chris Higgins turned onto Cunningham Road, turning the wheel gradually so as not to disrupt the car's speed. Her vehicle jolted once in a rough spot, then moved on. She gave one of her, "You'd better make it," sighs at the car.

She glanced at the woods passing by on both sides. Everything about the landscape emanated a darkness, even during the day. The girl couldn't help but shiver.

The events had occurred so long ago and yet too soon for her to come back here. She had returned once before after a crisis, only to find herself in an even deeper one. This had resulted in the deaths of her friends. She had never forgiven herself for what had happened.

Chris wished from the bottom of her soul that this time would actually be different. She had to revert back to suppression, something she found easier to do every day. Feign a positive attitude, and a newness would come.

Chris became so entrapped in her coping mechanism that she almost struck a rabbit crossing in front of her. The two laid eyes on the other, sensing the fear that was present. Or maybe it was Chris' imagination.

After the rabbit disappeared, she drove on, scolding herself. She was going to see her parents after a long period of time. No way could Chris feel upset. Like animals, Emily and Gerald Higgins would pick it up when she walked in. Analysis was most definitely their area of expertise.

Chris' Ford Focus broke out into an area totally free of shade. The rays cast a shimmer in her windshield. They gave a nice touch to her brown eyes. The girl took a brief moment to scratch her sweater.

Why was the sensible Chris Higgins wearing a sweater in mid summer?

That question belonged to her mother. Last time Chris had talked to her, the woman gave one of those lectures about all the gifts she had made for her daughter.

"You don't appreciate any of them," she would ramble on.

The least Chris could do was wear them when she visited, and that enabled her to do so now. She was not about to listen to those words over and over.

Chris drove closer to the Higgins house, where the row of beautiful, birch trees led the way. The house had the most decorative cherry woodwork. Mr. Higgins continuously layered the exterior so it glistened in the light. There was a porch lining all of one side, just like the lodge in Higgins Haven. Chris had to dash that comparison away. Their old vacation spot was more than chunk full of bad memories.

After cutting the engine, she took a deep breath.

_Come on. What's wrong with you? You've been through so much. Visiting your parents won't kill you. They do love you after all. _

A sudden noise from within the trees caught her attention. Chris had just exited the car and now looked around with a fixed stare. Her ears hinted that it hadn't been really close. But Chris' instincts told her something else.

She moved her expression along the bordering scenery, as if following a figure from inside. Silence continued from then on. Just the soft breeze cut in occasionally.

Chris fixated herself in her position until whatever it was had passed by. There remained no sense of dread that it had seen her. She sighed, running a hand through her brown curls.

"Chris, honey! What are you doing?"

Her mother. Chris' second vision, the one in the back of her head, saw her at the front door. Her hands were probably on her hips.

She looked back, made sure she saw nothing, then readied herself to greet her maternal figure.

Time for another battle of wits.

* * *

Jason cut through the forest like the very machete he carried with him. He paid no heed to the destruction of plants in his path. His eye narrowing as a predator on the hunt, Voorhees focused his already one track mind. It was more than merely killing this time. It became personal.

Getting rid of that Tommy look-alike meant one thing to Jason. The real Tommy Jarvis was still out there. A person could ponder all the reasons why Jason was hunting Tommy now and not earlier.

Maybe it was a result of the very dreams that haunted Jason's psyche. Only dreams about Tommy Jarvis could do that to Jason. Or one could determine that the dreams themselves combined with long periods of no human prey. Murdering people was a way of life for Jason. Having no such lives to do so shattered the reason for his existence. No humans meant Jason had to branch further out to find them. Or to punish one in particular.

It did not matter how human souls could have analyzed this. Jason Voorhees did not contemplate any motivation for his actions. He did what was instinct, and that's all there was to it.

Tommy Jarvis had to die. Now. No more distractions.

Jason moved past one human he should have stopped and punished. Chris Higgins, a short distance away in a clearing, had survived him twice as well. Even if Jason hadn't been as experienced the first time, it still counted.

At the time being, Tommy dominated the killer's thoughts. He would get to the others later. That feeling was more in his sub-conscious. However, it was still there.

Branches scratched at his mask, then brushed against his misshapen head. A majority of them snapped quickly upon touching Jason's spirit. Insects crumbled in little husks, and birds flew up into flocks whenever he drew near.

As the urge grew stronger, Jason's steps became faster. He arrived at the one place he never planned on being. The small town of Crystal Lake was mapped out in his vision. Jason scanned the buildings like a hawk. It may have been his first time here, though the area seemed so familiar.

A sixth sense came to the surface. It directed Jason towards a farther out section of the town. The sense packed the knowledge of a home near Crystal Point. But this house was different, as far as appearance.

The killer looked upon it now from seclusion in the trees. White paneling, tall hedges, and a two car garage were only a few features unique to a suburban area. The yard was full of items scattered about by less than neat teenagers. He caught the scent of the family bustling about from within the walls. His distance from the house did not deter him from knowing that he had faced one of the members before. Jason felt no recognition towards the rest of them while he moved closer.

Despite most of the clues hinting otherwise, he associated the residence with one word: Jarvis.

* * *

Tina had finished her shift at the hospital a few hours ago. But time was not important to her. When the night nurses came to take over, they weren't surprised to see her working late, yet again.

The head nurse just had to check in with every patient before she even thought about leaving. Tina moved down the dark halls, stopping to poke her head into rooms, then walked onward.

She had eventually left, and currently was fighting to unlock the door to her house. Tina could not understand why her hands were so clammy right now. They made every little task seem impossible. Once open, she burst into the living room.

Tina did not turn on the lights right away. She pressed her form against the wall, letting the shadows soak into her. The girl soon focused on what was bothering her.

That new patient, Angel, glowing like an excited child, rambling on about how she adored Tina.

"You're one of the few people that faced Jason Voorhees and lived!"

Something along those lines. Tina heard it repeat inside her head. She walked through the dim room until she came to a mirror. Only then did she turn on the light.

Tina was unsure about why she gazed at her reflection. Maybe it was simply to examine herself and see what she was like now. Or it could have held an even deeper meaning.

The reason was not as important as the force taking over her body. Tina never thought her powers would ever arise again. But as her stare grew more hardened, and her hands clenched at her sides, the mirror shook in surrender.

Jason Voorhees. He had murdered her mother. She had fought him. And…he had come back to kill again like nothing had happened.

The mirror exploded. Tina had to blink to notice the shards flying towards the floor. None of them so much as touched her. Another force was there to push the glass away. Confusion showed itself upon her.

She backed away, ready to scream, but her strength stopped her. She realized that the telekinetic abilities inside her had awakened for a purpose. Tina rushed to the phone, dialing a number with urgency.

"Nick," she spoke as soon as he answered. "Can you come over?


	5. Secrets Will Emerge

**Hey, happy Friday the 13th everyone! Unfortunately, this is the only story I could update right around this time. But it doesn't really matter when I post because every day is Friday the 13th to me(:**

**Even with this one, I hope I didn't write the chapter too fast. I probably didn't. I'm just used to taking way longer than this. I mainly got this part done so I could have the next chapter include some of the action you've been waiting for.  
**

**Hope you all have fun on this special day. I'm planning on being involved in a web chat while watching Friday the 13th Parts 7 and 8. Should be cool(:**

* * *

Rennie Wickham adjusted herself on the chair she had been sitting on for almost an hour. Its very surface wasn't exactly the most comfortable. She still had one more hour to go before the opportunity came to stretch her legs.

So she sat up straight and gave a peaceful smile to the next person in line. This one was another adolescent girl who hadn't yet passed the age of twenty. She belonged to the majority making up the line that ended just before the bookstore door. Their excited clamor consisted of the usual what they were going to say when meeting Rennie. It was difficult for the Wickham girl to hear much of anything else.

The teenager now in front shone giddiness all over her face while placing down the book for Rennie to sign. The leather bound volume's title read, _A Monster in Manhattan, _in letters of an unnerving shade of crimson. Rennie looked upon it with the satisfaction of every author who knew that his or her work made a difference to the readers.

Within her, she kept the secret that this was her autobiography. It was one of those names being changed to protect the identities of those involved kind of things. No need for generated sympathy by the public, which would only add unnecessary interviews attempting to dive into Rennie's personal experience. No, Rennie Wickham would not perform well under that kind of pressure. Her outer shell of insecurity may have been broken by that trip from Hell, but a sense of wariness still existed as part of her core. This mental caution sign stood as a shield to such danger happening again. It was a part of Rennie's hopes anyway.

So, when a duo of 17-year-olds, easily portraying young reporters, approached the table, it would become the worst thing that could have happened to Rennie. Well, second only to the trauma caused by the monster, which these teenagers were eager to unravel.

The one who was clutching a notepad, and with a pencil nestling upon his ear for constant access, piped up immediately. He had to get his purpose in before the line of Rennie's fans could speak of their aggravation.

Rennie supposed that this shouldn't be a major revelation at first. She observed them as being part of the newspaper at their local high school. They were simply seeking some inspirational words from a girl only a few years their elder. Rennie smiled, faintly amused, at the second of the teenage journalists.

It was evident that he was having a hard time with the camera. He aimed the device at Rennie, then tapped some buttons which didn't do a thing. When his eyes were again shown, they narrowed in frustration.

"Joel, what's with this camera? I can't get it to focus."

The friend named Joel didn't express any concern, or else it was masked into a spur of antagonism. He responded with his back to the befuddled cameraman.

"Well, figure it out. And hurry. We need a picture of the lucky survivor."

Rennie felt like a heavy blanket of silence covered the room. Her heart skipped more than a few beats as it dropped like a stone within her chest. She tried to keep her deep breaths as hidden as possible.

_Survivor. No. Where did he get that information? _

Someone, unregistered by Rennie, entered the foray at that moment.

"Excuse me, but who are you guys? This is a book signing. We're not taking pictures here."

The voice was that of Rennie's boyfriend, Sean Robertson. He took his stance behind Rennie, while placing one hand upon her shoulder to soothe the nervousness given off by her breathing.

The smile of Joel did not ease the stern look on Sean's face. Joel's photographer friend murmured his hesitation about being there. He made a few awkward steps away from the line of Rennie's once blissful fans, who were now complaining about the holdup.

"Joel, come on. We can try another time."

Joel refused to be hindered by any of those around him. That was not how an efficient journalist operated. And especially not when one of the luckiest people in the world was sitting only a foot away from him.

"Enough, Nathan. Just do your job."

Joel cleared his throat in what he assumed was a professional way of doing so. He lifted his notepad for the couple behind the table to view fully. Or at least Sean anyway. Rennie had reverted to one of her past difficulties with eye contact.

"I promise not to take up too much of your time. Let's begin. First of all, it is an honor to meet one of the few who has lived against Jason Voorhees. It's so obvious that he's your monster in Manhattan."

A ripple of alarm went through the waiting teens upon hearing that name. Jason's was one that gained familiarity among every generation, and automatically turned the atmosphere into one of sickening dread. Many confronted the others about how this could be.

"She faced Jason? Really? He was never in New York."

" Did she base this story on him? If she did, then it's a lie. Right?"

Various other points of confusion mixed into the clamor. Some of the teenagers gave glances towards the door, wondering if they should just escape from this turn of events. The girls in particular whimpered over the conflict in their heads. Which was stronger? Their loyalty as fans to Rennie Wickham or their fear of Jason Voorhees?

Joel looked back at the line shifting into different sides on the issue. He shook his head with pity at them. He wasn't fazed about the drama he had just caused.

"Wow, Rennie. I take it you haven't told your fans the whole truth. Such a shame. You could have been even more famous than you are now."

When he turned back to the table, only Sean faced him. Rennie had disappeared before the commotion could reach a breaking point. Her clear route was into the room where Sean had earlier been talking with Rennie's publisher. From there was another door that would take her out through the back of the store.

Sean's anger showed in every tense crevice of his face.

"I take it you two can leave now."

* * *

A typical family spent another summer morning with a variety of tasks. The house itself was a symphony of video game noises and angelic singing, the latter of which descended from upstairs. Two young teens were achieving levels of fun before their parents came back from jogging.

In front of the TV, came alternating responses, composing of excitement and then disappointment. 15-year-old Rob Anderson was an avid performer of many talents, from the more "useless" one of video game playing, that his mother deemed, to ones she found more efficient, such as fixing cars and household circuitry. Might as well excel in the fun one while she was off dutifully staying in shape. Rob himself was born with a more brawny build, so he felt like intense exercise was not needed for him.

The melodic notes on the second floor ceased. Their creator appeared halfway down the staircase. She leaned on the railing, and her long, sunshine hair followed that motion. As she had just reached the age of thirteen, Erica still conflicted with wants of socializing with the family and with the excitement of independence.

"Rob, turn that down," she told him, almost resembling a mother's voice.

Rob took his sweet time in destroying a few more enemies before responding. He then set down the controller, while giving an obvious "huffy" tone to his words.

"Does it matter? They just left for jogging about 20 minutes ago. And you know Mom. She has to go at least once around the town."

Erica gave one of those playful pouts upon her face.

"Since they're near town, you should have asked them to get you a cord so you can play upstairs. A whatever you call it thing for your system."

Rob followed that statement with a contemptible silence. Yeah, he viewed Erica's lack of video game knowledge as an insult. But he refused to make many things a big deal.

Instead, Rob let his eyes wander to the clock for a more exact time. Almost noon. Five more hours until one of their neighbors hosted a cook-out for all surrounding teens. And after that… well, Rob had a hard time imagining what.

Mrs. Anderson was not a parent to take teenage parties lightly. And she didn't even try to be lenient when Rob and Erica were so young in her eyes. As such, any interest said events could hold for the two juveniles was void. As Erica, reading Rob's mind, quickly stated.

"You're not planning on wasting your afternoon at some boring hangout, are you?"

Rob did not hesitate in shaking his head. His gaze redirected back to the paused game on the TV screen.

"No, I was only checking the time to know when to call our grandfather. He should be up by now."

Erica, by this time, was lingering closer to the top of the stairs. She was intent on continuing her singing practice. It never hurt to get a head start for the talent show in the upcoming school year. The young girl had so many plans already that a tragedy would ensue if they were all dashed.

"It's nice that you think of him. Mom says he's a very lonely man. Well, see you later."

The duo resumed staying busy as their jogging parents came ever closer.

* * *

Brian and Patricia Anderson might have been another average couple. Brian's courtship of his significant other had started after Patricia had lived for quite awhile with her father. She had insisted that staying close to him was a top priority for her, as well as he also aided her "recovery." A lot of deep meanings hid behind that term, none of which did Patricia really want to share.

Despite her slowness in opening up, Brian found himself attracted to just that: a somber touch upon her journey to seek a state of happiness that she used to enjoy. They ended up complementing each other rather nicely. Brian was new to the area, and Patricia did not halter in showing him around.

But there always existed a setting where she refused to let them trod, and to this day, it remained forbidden in her eyes. Brian was not one to stir a conflict, so he stood aside as Patricia had her way on that one. He suspected that this avoidance of the woods was part of the recovery she had mentioned.

During their periods of jogging, Patricia stuck to a route close to town. As they passed the buildings reminiscent of when she had grown up here, the woman still was not the most talkative. She appeared fine with the usual "hello" and a few, assorted words, however nothing deeper than that.

Brian sensed a silent understanding Patricia had with the townspeople. One day, he hoped to figure it out, though never agreed on when that ideal time would be. So many things were mysteries regarding Patricia's life. Brian had a coolness about it, for he thought there was all the time in the world for such puzzles to be solved.

On that current day, Patricia ended their conversation with a worried glance towards the town. Initially, they were headed for home, in a small suburbia that was closer to the city of Carpenter. But yet something was drawing Mrs. Anderson back from where they had come. And the lack of sweat around her athletic jacket and sweatpants indicated she had plenty of energy to spare.

"Oh man, I forgot. Brian, I have to go to the store real quick."

Her husband tilted his head just a bit in contemplation. He was unable to think of anything that they needed at the moment. She answered before he could break his silence.

"Rob needs a special cord for his video game system. I might as well get it while we're still close to town."

Now, Brian became even more puzzled. He studied the look on Patricia's face, which reflected a hint of shame.

"I'm surprised. I thought you said that him playing video games was a waste of time."

Patricia returned with a thin smile replacing the melancholy feel. Her expressions were never ones to be exaggerated.

"I don't believe I should have said that. I was just being nit-picky at the time. Rob deserves all the fun possible right now. Because life is too…short."

She immediately realized her break into a flashback, and so stopped that process by moving back towards the buildings. Brian watched her forest of blonde hair flow upwards as she jogged further away. He did not respond with any sense of judgment. Instead, he continued on the trail home, not expecting the rude awakening Patricia would face without him.


	6. A Reunion of Disbelief

Patricia exited the quaint, rustic general store at the very center of town. Even for being in a small community like Crystal Lake, the shop still packed a decent share of every category of item one would want. This included the video game cord nestled inside the shopping bag Patricia carried at her side. Beside the cord were a few other choice store goods that she couldn't resist.

Her pace quickened with an eagerness to get home and surprise her dear son, Rob. That name had been set for him before he even entered this world. Patricia held a fond remembrance of the young man who took the honor as her first love. She had never told Brian of her acquaintance with Rob Dier. As such, it didn't matter for Rob had been overcome far too early in a brutal tragedy. By that masked man who existed as anti-life in a human form. He was the monster who invaded the Jarvis family life and slashed it to shreds that could never be put back together again. Her mother, also cruelly dispatched of, and…

"Trish?"

The profound voice of a man behind her interrupted the nightmare about to play again in Patricia's head. For this, she was about to become grateful. She stopped in her tracks and turned around to greet him, expectant for a pleasant conversation. A shy nature hinted in her eyes when she didn't recognize him at first.

He was a man of thick, dark blonde hair and of a stature a few inches taller than Patricia, though some of his features indicated his age was younger. He stood with a firm mentality that exceeded even his physical height. Patricia narrowed her pupils as she allowed the recognition to sink in.

Trish. No one had called her that for many years.

Her breath caught in her throat. No, it couldn't be.

"Tommy?"

Trish's words rose along a wave of reminiscence. Tommy Jarvis. Her long lost brother, taken away from her when things lost all control, to put it mildly. He disappeared into the Unger Institute of Mental Health after he found it impossible to cope with the murderous attack upon their family. Trish found herself lost in the middle of a blink as the evil named Jason flooded back to her again.

"Trish, are you okay?"

The woman shook her head and returned to the present. The past was long gone, buried in the pit of death where she thought the maniac was now. Trish smiled the widest she had in a long time.

"Yes, of course. Tommy, is it really you?"

Her brother responded with a steady nod.

"Yes, Trish. After all this time, I finally found you. How have you been?"

Trish's smile began to wane. She regressed back to the memory of Tommy leaving her life for what felt like an eternity. It wasn't as if she hadn't tried to visit him and patch their weakening relationship. But one major obstacle stood in the way. Trish set a goal for herself to move on and not let the bloodbath of that night torch her life for good. While with Tommy, he relived the nightmare over and over again.

When the Unger Institute decided they had done all they could and transferred him to Pinehurst, that was the last time Trish had seen him. She remembered blinking back tears as she watched her brother, then a stolid character, ride away in that van for a new session of treatment at the halfway house. Anything that happened afterwards was an unknown passage of time for Trish.

"I've been okay. I…"

She stumbled over any words she was plotting to say next. Seeing Tommy since that recollection years ago bombarded Trish's emotional core. This man, in her eyes, was a familiar stranger. And standing in the middle of town did nothing to help.

Tommy looked around him, sensing Trish's shyness, though the occasional passers-by did not faze him in the least.

"Come, we'll talk somewhere else. How about beyond the post office there?"

He talked in this tone full of decision that Trish had never heard before. She felt herself being led by him into the more secluded spot. The shade of the trees coated both their forms.

"I understand that you don't know what to think now seeing me after all this time. And I hate to do this, but I'll get right to the point of why I'm here."

Trish remained silent, simply nodding her head in a wavering motion. Everything she had worked up to say to him were lost in the winds of confusion.

"You'll be glad to know that I've found the perfect way of facing my demons. Or Demon, to be more exact. I've worked in the Army for the past few years. Strengthening myself in both body and spirit. And now I've come to save you."

Any ease in the conversation was broken from there. Tommy Jarvis knew that last sentence would cause bewilderment in Trish. But it was imperative that he state his goals as quickly as possible.

"Save me? Tommy, what's going on here? You disappear for years, and then finally I see you, and you start talking like nothing's happened?"

"I'm not getting into this to upset you. I'm here for the safety of you and your family."

Trish dropped her mouth open slightly. She didn't know whether to be more confused or angry that Tommy found that out behind her back.

"My family? How do you know about them?"

"We can talk about those things later. But first, we have to get out of here. Because Jason's back."

That was it. Trish started to shake her head in disbelief. This was not the way she had envisioned the long awaited reunion with her brother.

"No. No, no, no. This is not happening. You don't know how hard it's been for me to keep that horrible monster behind me. And you just throw his name in my face after all this time and for what? So you can drag me into your fantasy world that caused us to be separated to begin with?"

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but his sister was not done yet.

"Tommy, look, I don't want to be mad with you. It's just that I've started a new life now with the last name of Anderson. And I refuse to get my husband and kids involved with the delusions you still have. Once you've understood this, you can gladly come and see us."

Tommy took a few hurried steps closer to her, his face signaling the urgency of the situation. He was no fool. He felt down to his bones that Jason was alive, even after his attempts at permanently ending the nightmare.

"Trish, please, listen to me. Can't we at least go somewhere safe and talk more? Then maybe you will realize…"

Trish was not about to accept any more of Tommy's words. She backed away, quickly looking to make sure they had not attracted attention.

"Tommy, no more. I mean it. I've been fighting hard to forget, and I wish you would as well. So anyway, I have to go."

Tommy reached out for her, but she shrugged off his help and hastily made her way back in the direction she had intended to go.

"Trish!"

He kept calling after her to no avail. Tommy wanted to follow. However, he didn't want to intensify the conflict anymore. He sighed heavily, running his hands down his face in vexation. The longer his beloved sister was out of sight, the more Tommy would fear the storm of death would strike again. He had to find somebody else. Somebody who could help. Somebody who would believe.

* * *

Nick found the door to Tina's house open, so he stepped inside in readiness to console his girlfriend. The first scene to strike his eyes was the shattered mirror. The shards of glass decorated the nearby carpet. Nick felt an increased sense of worry of Tina's well-being after seeing this.

"Tina!"

Her name traveled throughout the room and landed on her form sitting off in a corner. Nick rushed over to her. Once confirming that she wasn't hurt, his gaze lingered on Tina's face, saturated in tears. At the present, her crying had stopped, though the signs of an emotional meltdown showed themselves upon Tina's position.

"Tina, what's wrong? You told me it was urgent, so I'm here now. What's going on?"

Tina Shepard kept a silence while appearing to think of the best way to tell him. She lifted a hand to wipe away some of the tears, while taking a deep breath.

"I don't know why, but it's all coming back."

Nick contemplated what she meant, but came up with nothing. He knelt down and clasped her hand in his.

"It's okay. Just tell me what's the matter. Did something happen at the hospital?"

Tina immediately shook her head.

"No, well not exactly. A new patient came today, and she brought _him_ up."

Nick was confused for only a few more seconds. Then the sheer horror of who Tina was mentioning made the young man's blood run cold. Nobody who had faced that unstoppable force could ever truly forget. Nick tried to summon the helpfulness he thought he lacked during the confrontation against pure evil. Never again would he allow himself to be thrown to the side and leave Tina on her own.

"Look, Tina. You're still going to find those people who speak of Jason. You can't let that get to you. You took care of that monster, remember?"

A renewed urgency flowed through Tina's veins. She stood straight up, almost pushing Nick away. She motioned to the mirror she had destroyed.

"I know, Nick, but look. The glass was shattered because of me. Because of my powers. They're no longer dormant. They've come back for a reason."

"So what are you saying, Tina? That we failed all that time ago? Even after we demanded that the police drag the lake to prove that Jason was down there?"

"You know as well as I do that they didn't do it. It was just so useless! The killer of all these people, including my own mother, keeps going free. I'm sick of it!"

As her emotions rose higher to the surface, so did her abilities. Tina once had them under control at a point where she knew it was vital. Fighting to avenge the fallen of those around her proved to be the optimal focus of her telekinesis. Now it was like she had to start over from the beginning.

Nick followed her gaze and saw the trembling pictures on the wall. Some swayed so hard from the nails behind them, dropping down and littering the floor not too far away from the broken shards. Rushing to Tina, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently.

"Relax, Tina. Let's think. What do you suggest we do?"

Tina let her emotional state simmer down with each breath. She had developed too much to regress back to her inner workings losing control. Her thought patterns assessed all she had learned about psychics since being one herself. The details of their visions were stronger when they were at the exact location of a certain event. Tina concluded that going back to Crystal Lake would provide her with the answers she was looking for. She mentioned all this to Nick, and he was less than enthusiastic.

"What? I understand where you're coming from, but are you sure? Returning to that evil place can't be the only option."

Tina then encountered the idea of having to leave her position at the hospital in order to put the plan of reflection into action. She knew that she had built up plenty of seniority there, so taking time off wasn't an issue. At least as far as her job security was concerned. However, Tina couldn't bear to damage the loyalty she held for all those that needed her. No way was she about to abandon them to pursue her own interests.

"Oh, Nick, I don't know what to do. I have to know for sure if the return of my powers is connected to the monster of my past. If so, then Gabriella was right. Something bad is coming. But I can't bring myself to leave her and the others at the same time. I just...don't..._know_!"

Following this new peak in her emotions, books were swept away from the shelves near her. They were all random in adding to the clutter about the room, except for one. Rennie Wickham's novel rested right in the center of Tina's vision. Her eyes stared at it with such an intensity, like she was reading every word beyond the cover. Tina Shepard felt as if she knew this author, even though they had never crossed paths.

"Jason," she spoke sternly to the spirit of the maniac. "I'm not done with you yet."

* * *

Dusk fell upon the Anderson home as the family inside settled into positions of relaxation. Trish was seated upon the bed, looking through some old photos of when she had happily called herself a Jarvis. Ever since her encounter with Tommy, Trish became more wrapped up in reminiscing than ever before. She didn't speak a word of it to Brian or her children.

Not that they were completely in the dark. Brian knew Trish all too well to know that something was awry. Her far away gaze worried him throughout the evening. But he made it a plan not to say a word unless Trish initiated the discussion. He stepped into their bedroom now to witness her tremble over the collection of pictures on her lap. Clearly, whatever was on them had touched a nerve deep within Trish.

"Hey, everything all right?"

She jerked a little, caught in surprise over Brian's presence. Her hands all of a sudden became slippery as she hurried to put the photos back in their box. Brian showed his usual, helpful manner by bending down to retrieve some that she had dropped. His eyes glimpsed ever briefly the image of Trish sitting by the shores of a lake with a young boy and his dog playing near her. He didn't have time to ask about it because Trish swiped the picture away, a bit too forcefully for Brian's liking.

"It's nothing," she explained, trying to sound uninterested. "Just my younger brother and a dog we once had. They're both long gone."

Hoping that was the end of the subject, Trish headed in the direction of the bathroom. The door slammed behind her, resonating down the stairs to where Erica was reading a magazine at the kitchen table. The sound was then followed by the flowing of bath water.

Confused and disheartened, Brian left his wife alone to cleanse away her troubles in the tub. He descended to the first floor and poked his head through the kitchen doorway to talk to his daughter. She was skimming from one page to the next, appearing to be unsure what article she wanted to read. When Brian peered over her shoulder, he found out why.

"Fangoria? Since when are you into that?"

Erica smiled at her dad's response, then glanced at a picture of some monster and quickly closed the magazine.

"Actually, it belongs to Rob. I was just curious."

Brian proceeded next to walk over to the window and peer out, watching the darkness settling in outside. The tiny sliver of a moon did little to provide any visibility. The man squinted his eyes to help him search for something near the road and soon found that idea useless.

"Did you or Rob take the dumpster out by the curb?"

Erica's face became thoughtful for a second. She followed with a shake of her head.

"No, dad, we didn't."

Mr. Anderson uttered a sigh of mock disappointment. He reverted his eyes over to her.

"Do you mind going out and doing it?"

The girl's dilated eyes was all the response that Brian needed. She uttered a hesitant groan. The omnipresent darkness never failed to incite Erica's hold on her child-like nature. It went to show that she wanted to act like a teenager only when it was convenient for her.

"I don't know. Going out in the dark alone? Do you think that's really safe for me?"

Brian crossed his arms and yet still was in that light-hearted mood. He wasn't about to stir up any more conflict. Not after what had happened with Trish.

"You're being silly. What do you expect is going to happen out there?"

Erica gave a shrug of her shoulders, sliding her chair back as a sign that her attention span was weakening on the matter.

"I don't know. Anything."

Brian immediately felt a chill after opening the front door. Clearly surprised, he closed it and pulled on a jacket that was hanging from one of the hooks in the front hallway. From his knowledge, the air was supposed to be humid, typical of any other summer night in the area. The depth of that cold rush struck him to the very bone. Brian couldn't understand it.

But the man brushed off this feeling, since he planned on being out there for only a short time. Before leaving, he flipped on the switch for the outside light. The bulb sputtered weakly and died quickly afterward.

_Great. Anything else?_

He didn't take this as a possible bad omen. Brian never believed in such things. He took his time passing through the blackness on all sides of him. Even the nearest streetlight was far too distant to give any assistance.

Eventually finding the dumpster, Brian began to roll it down the path to the curb. The weight of many garbage bags inside slowed him just a little. Once he came to a good spot, he set it down with a heavy thud.

All this time, a figure of the night had been watching him menacingly. Unlike his victims, the madman required no light to see what was in front of him. Moving in a steady, yet swift fashion, he stalked across the yard to the form of Brian, who was making his way back to the house.

As if the elements were in tune to Jason's actions, the moon increased from a sliver to a more prominent sphere, casting down its light onto Brian Anderson. The man froze in the middle of this sudden illumination. He had no time to react to the evil behind him.

The unrelenting force of the machete plunged all the way through his torso, leaving a stream of blood to course out the other side. Any screams were replaced by Brian's gasps choking on the added gore filling his throat. As the moonlight showcased this morbid performance of Jason, the shadows of murderer and victim were splayed across one side of the house. And before any of the remaining family inside could notice, the light vanished, after which the body of Mr. Anderson fell forward into dimness.

Even as a new wave of energy came over Jason from each kill, he slipped back into the yard's obscurity, patiently biding his time for the next opportunity to strike. For no matter how strong the scent of Jarvis was in that house, rushing in could lead to the loss of potential victims. While he clenched the dripping machete in one gloved hand, Jason sensed the impending arrival of a subsequent human.

The front door opened just a margin, and Erica's young face peered out. She let her eyes adjust to the dark night, though she still didn't pick out the silhouette of her father. The girl ventured ever so slowly down the porch steps. Afterwards, she used the garage exterior for additional support.

Jason caught the whiff of fear in Erica's whole character. He would have felt a satisfaction if the cause of her trepidation was him. But it was not, at least not yet.

She stepped down onto an unseen liquid and slipped so much that she nearly fell over. Erica regained her balance, bending down to discover what could have sent her careening towards the pavement. Jason tuned into the horrific gasp escaping the girl's throat when she realized it was blood. Immediately, Erica dashed back to where she had come, screaming for her mother all the while.

The masked man had no problem adapting to a new design in the hunt. He neared the girl in seconds only to be met by her slamming the door and fidgeting frenetically to lock it. Jason's form wasted no time in smashing through the pathetic wooden barrier. Erica went flying backwards by the force of the enormous man. She crumpled over at the bottom of the stairs, her small frame terribly winded.

Jason passed through the threshold of the house that he now ruled with his very presence. Something about the young teen reminded him of the Jarvis bloodline, and that was reason for her execution. He strode away from the splintered door, raising his machete higher to draw her blood. His radar registered the panic-stricken Rob hurrying towards the scene, and, to a greater extent, the true Jarvis woman scrambling about as well. If Jason was ever capable of displaying an emotion nearing happiness, he would be at this moment.

Let every person come to him, as if they were accepting their fates. The stolidity of Jason's reign meant all life was about to be vanquished before the clock chimed the next hour.


End file.
